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Sanji held the chopsticks in his hands with practiced ease. He flipped the strips of beef quickly and poured some soy sauce over them. The meat sizzled in the pan and the blonde moved on to scoop some noodles into a large bowl. It was the lunch rush, so his body was constantly moving, hands flying from one dish to another.
Since moving to Japan, he had adapted to their cuisine. It wasn’t easy though. Zeff had encouraged him to learn more than just Japanese recipes. It was hard, Sanji was just 11 when they had come overseas. He didn’t know the language that well, he didn’t know a lot of the foreign ingredients, and most of all, he didn’t know how to hold chopsticks.
It had been daunting at first, the task Zeff had given him. Eventually though, he was able to pick up the language and he studied Japanese produce until it was as familiar to him as his own name. But even after months of practice, he still couldn’t use chopsticks. It was depressing for him; he had perfectly dexterous hands and had never had trouble mastering any utensil or tool. Why were two overgrown toothpicks different!?
He was eating lunch at his middle school one day─ outside where no one could see him fail─ when a boy suddenly sat beside him.
“I forgot my bento and the cafeteria always moves around the school,” he said.
Sanji just stared at him blankly. He felt bad for the kid, but what was he supposed to do about it? Then Sanji noticed the boy’s eyes ogling his lunch.
“Can I have some of yours? Your food always looks so good,” he exclaimed. “I’ll show you how to use chopsticks in return!” He tapped his chopsticks against Sanji’s to stress his offer.
Sanji’s jaw dropped. This random boy knew he couldn’t use chopsticks!? That meant everyone probably knew! Sanji glared at the boy accusingly, but he just grinned smugly, as if he had won something.
Truthfully, Sanji would have given the boy his food without payment, but since the opportunity had presented itself, he would take it.
“Ok fine. But first tell me your name,” Sanji said, stuttering over some of his words. Damn this language. French was so much easier.
“I’m Zoro.”
“That’s a dumb name.”
“Well you have dumb eyebrows!”
Despite the insults, Sanji grinned happily. He hadn’t made many friends since arriving, and this was the most he had spoken to anyone at school. Maybe…he wouldn’t have to eat alone anymore.
Zoro showed him how to properly hold the chopsticks, demonstrating proudly for the blonde to see. Sanji tried to mimic him, but fumbled again and again.
“Wow you really suck,” Zoro said. Sanji had given him some food because the lunch period would end soon. Zoro seemed to enjoy it, if his enthusiastic chewing was anything to go by.
“I guess you won’t help me anymore, then,” Sanji whispered.
“Huh?!” Zoro looked at him in confusion, some rice spilling out of his open mouth. Sanji yelled at him to eat properly.
“Anyway, I’m not giving up on you. I never turn down a challenge!” Zoro looked at Sanji with determination, and Sanji felt his cheeks heating up. Luckily, Zoro didn’t seem to notice.
From that day on, Sanji and Zoro would eat lunch together. They’d share their bentos, and Zoro would teach Sanji over and over how to use chopsticks. Sanji finally picked up his food with them after the second week. By the fourth, he and Zoro were competing to see who could pull off cooler chopstick tricks.
One thing that never changed was the quick tap of chopsticks before eating. Zeff had made fun of them when Zoro had been invited for dinner and he saw them do it. But despite what Zeff had said, Sanji never stopped holding out his chopsticks, and Zoro never stopped extending his. It had become something much deeper to the two of them.
Sanji placed two bowls of udon on the bar and yelled out the order, shoving the memories to the back of his mind. He thanked the lovely high school girls for their patronage, then turned back to his work. The day went on and an endless flow of customers dropped by for some of Sanji’s popular cooking.
When night finally fell, and the crowd thinned, Sanji began cleaning up. Just as he was about to turn off his stove, the bell on the door rang. Sanji looked up, a huge smile spreading across his face.
“Got time for one more, Curly?”
“Only if I can join you, Marimo.”
Sanji went back to the kitchen and whipped up some steamed rice and beef. The dishes were simple, but delicious, perfect after a long day at the dojo. He placed the two bowls on the bar then went to the back of the restaurant to change out of his work clothes. When he came back to the storefront, he saw Zoro waiting patiently at the bar, his food untouched, and his chopsticks raised.
Sanji smiled softly and went to sit beside the waiting man. He lifted his own chopsticks, now resting comfortably in his skilled hands, and lightly tapped them against Zoro’s. The pair ate together in pleasant silence, broken only by Sanji’s occasional remark about Zoro’s lack of manners, and the soft grunt he got in reply.